Negative capability

Busy yesterday with the visit to the Uni by Joseph Parisi, former editor of "Poetry" magazine - he's a childhood friend of PAS, they actually went to elementary school together in Hurley. He received some national attention a few years ago when helped "Poetry" secure a very large charitable donation for its operations and for the general good fortune of poets in America. Pharma heiress Ruth Lilly's gave $220 million donation, at least that's the amount I heard last night. I've known Joe through PAS for a some years: we had guests at PAS's for Thanksgiving a few years ago. Actually, I helped make arrangements to bring Joe to Iron Harbor, assisting with the original contact. "Local boy makes good" is a good storyline.
Parisi gave an interesting talk about the relationship of "Poetry" the magazine to the lives and careers of the great american modernist poets: TS Eliot (whose "Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" debuted there in 1915), William Carlos Williams, Wallace Stevens, and especially Ezra Pound (1885-1972), who was quite a piece of work. Parisi does a devastatingly funny imitation of Pound, who was the first foreign editor and who is a major subject of Parisi's recent book, "Dear Editor: A History of Poetry in Letters". Pound was later a proud fascist and supporter of Mussolini and an inmate of St. Elizabeth's Mental Hospital in Washington D.C. where he managed to elude prosecution for treason.

Incidentally, Pound spent the last years of his life - and died - in Venice, and Joe's next project is a book about history and memory in Venice. I'll have to get there sometime soon, before it sinks into the Adriatic.

PAS was in town for his friend's talk, in fact drove over with him from Hurley. PAS was also in town last week for a "Media Meet" show on Public TV. What with out-of-town visitors and travels to Chi-town, I've been restauranting more than kitchening lately. Dinners last week with PAS on Wednesday at Liz's, and the next night Kareem's Place. Later we went to the GGG Thursday night thing, where we met up with Rikki, Nashini and Archie on the sixth floor. The sheriff and the architect were there as well, and later Erik and Witold, the Polish nurse who Erik is now dating. (I don't know yet if Mac is yet seeing someone else, but I heard a rumor that he may have a new friend in New York City. It's always nice to have a place to stay in the Big Apple.)

Yes, and couples: a) the Brooks' were back in town last night, having returned from Beirut. Lebanon's wonderful, but they decided not to re-up there and will instead spent the year back in Syracuse where Ross will be able to position himself in the academic cattle market for the 2009 hiring season. We met for drinks at the Ramada where Spike Bates was having one of his sweet acoustic nights.

b) had dinner on Saturday night in Chicago with the Legal Eagles, Gerald and Janet - we ate at an interesting French-Indian fusion place in River North, Vermillion. Tasty - and expeditious! c) and the guys from Norway came up from the borderlands for Joe's presentation last night. Hadn't seen them since the summer of 2007. But they'd heard about on public radio! Good signals are important.

"The da Vinci Code" (2006) -- 4 stars out of ten - utter pabulum, and Tom Hanks has bad hair "Persepolis" (2007) -- 6 stars out of ten - the graphic novel (about growing up Iranian under the ayatollahs) is much better than the film; also, films about depression are depressing 2007 novel by Marina Lewycka, the follow up to her wonderful debut book, "A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian." In "Strawberry Fields," Lewycka (who is a Ukrainian immigrant to Britain herself) follows the difficulties of a group of eastern European fruit pickers who are sucked up into the exploitative world of migrant labor. The Dickensian "social conscience" aspects of the novel are balanced by delightful comedy and romance. I'm recommending it to my friends at Snowbound books.

I took Mac and his roommate Sara Lee to the airport at the break of dawn on Thursday - they went off to Noo Yorick for a long weekend. Interesting how Mac is taking his holiday on the east coast while Erik with a K went out to the west coast (San Fran). Apparently they are still not talking to one another! Ah, breaking-up is "heart two dues".

Then I had kaffeeklatch with Karl, the charming young Lutheran who has been up here doing a pastoral internship in Hematite over the last year. Just as I've gotten to point of being able to talk theology with him, he's moving back to Chicago next week to continue his seminary seminars. Actually, now that Karl is out and proud, he's not sure if his bishop is going to let him carry on through ordination. So it goeth.

And I ran into Pink at the pirate art show opening. She said that she has cut Richie out of her life for now, that he was just getting to be too much for her, and that he was dismissed as Director of Vertigo's project, "Rabbit Hole". Sad really, but probably best for all concerned that he's leaving Iron Harbor. He's "intriguing", yes certainly, but undeniably difficult, demnanding, and dipsomanial. I'm so glad I didn't get involved with him. Well, it wasn't ever likely, but especially not after that Sam Shepard-esque night.

Just finished reading this 1978 novel (his first) by Andrew Holleran. Remarkable how influential it was, how so much of its tone has shaped gay consciousness and discourse over the last two generations. It's set in the fast and furious sexual and social world of lower Manhattan and Fire Island in the 1970s. The novel pre-dates the onslaught of AIDS/HIV, but even so, an elegaic atmosphere of memory and loss pervades its pages. Certainly the novel reflects the rampant coupling and promiscuity that was the rule in the post-1960s era of Gay Liberation. But in a larger sense, "Dancer from the Dance" is about the Education of Americans. It echoes early novels about initiation and enlightenment set in New York, most notably "The Great Gatsby." Like the Fitzgerald, "Dancer" is terribly disillusioning. In American culture, those who seek to go "over the rainbow" ultimately realize that Oz is an illusionary world of people wearing green-tinted glasses.

I've been down in Ottawa since Tuesday, attending a Canadian Studies Conference. Eh? I love being able to write "down in Ottawa," which is verifiably true as Iron Harbor has a lattitude which is higher. Moreover, it's also a welcome pleasure that Ottawa is at least two weeks ahead in terms of leaves on trees and buds on flowers. And the last three days have been brilliantly sunny and refreshingly warm, particularly to me after a cool weekend in Michigan.

The keynote speaker at the opening session was Graham Fraser, who is the current "Commissioner of Official Languages". What exactly is a "Commissioner of Official Languages"? I confess that I did not know. However, I picked up a brochure to find out!

"Canada's two official languages, English and French, are a defining characteristic of our society. Throughout our history, the dialogue between these two language groups has helped build a culture that respects diversity.

"The Commissioner of Official Languages works to foster this constructive dialogue among all members of our society. The Official Languages Act, whose compliance the Commissioner is responsible for ensuring, confers upon him two major roles: protection and promotion.

"In his protection role, the Commissioner investigates complaints filed by citizens who feel their language rights have been violated. He also works preventively by monitoring the extent to which federal institutions are complying with the Official Languages Act. . .

"The Commission works to forge links between federal institutions, offical language communities and the different levels of government in order to help them better understand the needs of official language communities, emphasize the importance of bilingualism and highlight the value of respecting Canada's linguistic duality. In concrete terms, the Commissioner fulfills his promotion role by conducting research, studies and public awareness activities as well as by intervening with senior officials to ensure that their decisions have a positive effect in the area of official languages."

So very Canadian!

Fraser's presentation was a model of bilinguality [is that a word?]. That is, longer sections of English text would be followed by longer sections of French text, without any translation of the preceding material. Fraser expected his audience to be able to follow in both languages. Also, Fraser competently fielded questions in both languages. I impressed myself by being able to understand the essential substance of the French passages: merci, Madame Zalewski et Mademoiselle Nash, for giving me a good foundation all those years ago.

There have been other conference sessions that have been bilingual, with both English and French language papers in them. However, the sessions I've attended have been monolingually English.

I was sufficiently intrigued by the topic that the next, I went to the Carleton University bookstore and purchased Fraser's recent book, "Sorry, I Don't Speak French."
I'm not yet able to post any of my photos of Ottawa: the bandwith in my hotel is too narrow for me to upload them. Maybe tomorrow.

When I went to Amsterdam last month, I flew out of Eskimo City, where the TSA agent manually looked through my checked suitcase. When she was going through my things, she noticed that one of the books I was carrying with me was German writer Dorothy Dieckmann's 2004 novella "Guantanamo." "Oh, that looks interesting" she said, with something of an edge in her voice. I didn't say anything, just raised my eyebrows. (I hadn't been aware that the TSA provided literary criticism along with their security services.)

I wasn't able to read the book while I was in the Netherlands - too busy strolling the canals - but I finally started it last week and finished it this morning. The TSA agent was correct; it was quite interesting, though disturbing and nightmarish would be applicable as well. The central character is a German Muslim, Rashid, who becomes the subject of a terrifying "rendition" while he is on holiday in South Asia. In his bizarre experiences of travelling to Guantanamo, and through his brutal interrogation there, Rashid loses the thread of his experiences and almost loses the sense of his identity. Dieckmann cleverly never makes it clear what Rashid is suspected of, or whether he is actually "involved" with the anti-American forces in any significant way. Instead, the "truth" is as unclear as the hazy Cuban skies. Frustating as it is for the reader not to be able to know the "truth," I think frustration is an entirely appropriate authorial device when depicting the Kafka-esque and Orwellian nightmare that is Guantanamo.

Monday was Erik's birthday. 22! (I remember when I used to have birthday gatherings.) He was also celebrating having been formally accepted to the nursing program. Our group met for dinner at Karim's place: Mac, Whynot and Wizz, Rikki, Marnie and Alice. I noticed that Whynot and Wizz were definitely coupled on Monday, whereas it had been unclear about their status on Saturday night. (I notice these things.) Later we strolled down to the Wine Bar where we opened a couple bottles of wine: an Australian Shiraz and a Chilean Cabernet. Red wine with friends on a Monday night: that's good living!